“Why, what did they write?” Asked KS, that girl a moment ago I couldn’t remember the name of.

“Ask them, they wrote it.”

I can’t remember what happenned after that, but I couldn’t stop smirking in Biology and I didn’t dare look at SS or ES. I don’t think Spud was in.

Then they told me I should have printed it out. I had it in mind at the time but was too enthusiastic about getting it to her to spend more time producing it.

When you spend a year sat next to
someone, you learn to recognise their handwriting. Provided you
don’t have learning difficulties. If you do, you might not realise
that others will pick up on these things. Use a computer,
regardless.

Girls- and women- get away with
saying whatever they want to men, because they are inferior. If they
weren’t, when women say slutty things to men they would get the same
treatment as when men do it to women. I learned this in 1997. (Well,
I noticed it. It has never really sank in.) I got a fair bit of shit
off people for writing that. SS and co got no shit for what they
wrote to me.

SS, KS, RS, Me, Spud, ES. Six people
tied together by one stupid poem. Whilst a hexagon of planets
aligned in the sky, a hexagon of stupidity formed between six
angst-ridden and slightly weird teens. The planets, just like ours,
keep on turning. In both instances, the formation is random and
meaningless. It is by chance that the planets and the people on them
engage in the way they do. It is not to be read into deeply. Do not
let it matter to you what happens. The planets keep turning around
the Goddamn sun. They don’t stop to dither in the past. Why the hell
am I doing?